


A Planet Near Arcturus

by nostalgia



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, but not bad i hope, oldfic, rly old liek 2007, totally jossed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-08
Updated: 2015-02-08
Packaged: 2018-03-11 05:48:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3316481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nostalgia/pseuds/nostalgia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's not keeping this one. Really. No, honest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Planet Near Arcturus

He might as well. She's not staying, she's just here for one trip through the vortex. She's an atttractive woman and she's looking at him with excited eyes and blood full of adrenaline. Full of lusts and hormones and, sod it all, the universe owes him something. Owes him something fun and uncomplicated that doesn't end in tears. 

It owes him a pretty girl called Martha Jones who isn't staying and won't break his hearts. 

( _Yeah, like all those other strays you swore you'd never give a home to._ )

Martha Jones who isn't getting that suspiciously new-looking room that's appeared next to his own ( _of course not_ ) and who will thank him for a lovely time and skip off happily after this one little trip ( _that's not sentimental, no_ ). So where's the harm in two consenting adults having some pleasant and uncomplicated recreational sex? ( _If you ever work out how to do that._ )

"It must look terrible," he says, trying a smile that's worked before, "picking up strange woman and impressing them with time-travel to get them into bed."

"You do this a lot?"

( _No._ ) "All the time."

He's not keeping her, no matter how many times she tilts her head and raises her eyebrows at him. Not that he's ( _smitten already?_ ) been paying much attention to things like that. No, Martha Jones is out the door as soon as he gets her home. Gone with a friendly wave and maybe a wink or that nice little smile she does. ( _It's not just a river in Egypt and a planet near Arcturus._ )

"So," she says, stretching on that bed that isn't hers and never will be, "Earth girls are easy?"

Oh, they're not. They're terrifyingly complex and their emotions are enough to confuse even a man who had to negotiate his way through the labyrinthine courtships of Gallifrey ( _no, don't think about her, don't think about any of them_ ) and who won a game of postal chess against an unbeaten planet-sized AI ( _that's better_ ). 

So, "Yeah, a bit."

Martha doesn't mind one bit, because he hasn't yet taught her to expect too much. He is careful not to make a promise when he kisses her ( _don't make one to her either_ ), because she isn't staying and is mere nerve-endings. 

She slips the knot from his tie ( _good with her hands_ ) and he runs his hands up her legs ( _good for running_ ), past her waist, under the hem of her top and thinks only of warm skin ( _and how nice it would be to keep her around for a bit_ ). 

He wants to taste the strip of skin between hem and denim, so he doesn't. Taste is too intoxicating, and Martha might be addictive. All those other senses and in any case her mouth tastes eloquent and sharp and it's not like he's in love with her ( _yet_ ). 

It's possible that he's going the tiniest bit insane. ( _I think we passed that point when your internal monologue became an internal dialogue._ )

He tries to remember if there's supposed to be a sequence for undressing early 21st-century women as a pulse around the optic nerves insists that if that bra has to stay on then the universe really is unkind and unjust. ( _Yeah, that's the spirit._ ) He flips the clasping hooks from their anchors and-

"Hang on."

She can't possibly be about to say anything good, but he distracts himself by helping her from her bra as she wriggles and maneuvers and shifts until her back pocket yields a condom ( _she thinks ahead, clever girl_ ). 

"I don't want to get Space AIDS."

"I don't have Space AIDS!"

"You would say that," she says, fingers working the buttons on his shirt. "You could have anything in that alien..." She does the head-tilt thing again. "It's not weird is it? It doesn't have spikes or suction cups or anything like that?"

"Martha Jones," he says, slipping her jeans down her legs and how did he forget that humans have so much skin? ( _By trying very hard not to think about it._ ), "why do you always want to ruin surprises?" 

"I'm not shagging you if it's got spikes." 

"It doesn't have spikes. Bloody hell, woman, it's not like I use it to go fishing."

She twists out of her remaining clothes and, oh, Martha Jones, doesn't she look lovely? All warm and ( _stop it, you're not keeping her_ ) soft and tempting. He's staring and she giggles and tugs on his waistband and look, it's true, no spikes. 

"I've never shagged an alien before."

"I've never..." He tries to think of something he's never done. He's so old and trying not to be jaded and she's so young and everything's new to her ( _just one trip_ ). So he says "I've never had sex with Martha Jones," and slides halfway into her to hear her lips produce a sound he's never heard before. 

It's all very simple, really. Even animals can manage it and the Doctor and Martha both almost have degrees in biology so they should be able to work it out between them. She says "oh" and he says "fuck" and they're not consumating anything but ( _it's nothing, like when you kissed her and like when you carried her about because you didn't want to let her go_ ) it's lovely and he could quite happily stay like this forever ( _no such thing and you know it_ ). Forever abruptly ends when she moves her ( _fantastic_ ) legs and pulls him deeper, and for a moment he wonders how many more illusions this woman will shatter before she leaves ( _next stop, out the door, remember that_ ). 

Afterwards she yawns lazily in her bed ( _not hers, no_ ) and says "It doesn't have spikes."

"You don't have to sound so disappointed."

"Spikes are a bit kinky for a first date anyway."

It's not a first date, but by the time he's chosen the best way to explain this to her she's asleep with her head resting over the heart she smacked back to life, so it'll have to wait. He doesn't want Martha getting any ideas. It's just one trip and then he's taking her back where he found her. ( _That's it, just one trip._ )

Well, one trip and a quick stop-over in New New York. And then maybe a quick visit to Ganymede. Oh, and she'd _love_ 42nd-century Sydney...


End file.
